


Christmas Spirits

by Argyle



Category: Good Omens
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-12-20
Updated: 2006-12-20
Packaged: 2019-02-11 20:58:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 445
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12943758
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Argyle/pseuds/Argyle
Summary: Captain Ffolkes was dead, to begin with.





	Christmas Spirits

So it had come to this: a house calling witch.

Shadwell stood in the open doorway, feet planted firmly apart. He rolled a cigarette with one hand, and held the other before him, forefinger at the ready. The wind whirled over the lawn, scattering snow and dry leaves. “Well?” he asked. “What’s yer purpose here?”

“You must recognize me!” The spirit’s voice sounded as though it had been cast across the abysmal planes of Hell, which was more or less the case, give or take a chasm or two. “In life I was your cellmate, Witchfinder Captain Ffolkes! I have grave news for you!”

Shadwell squinted up at the spirit. “Not wi’out proper identification.”

“Identification?”

“The Witchfinder Handshake!”

“But there _is_ no handshake.”

“Exactly!”

“Oh,” said Witchfinder Spirit Captain Ffolkes. “Will you not listen to my warning?”

“How many nipples have ye?”

A pause, and then, uncertainly: “I have no nipples.”

“Ah! The one thing worse than havin’ more than enough nipples is having none at all. I knew ye was a daemon! Back to the fire, hell spawn!” Shadwell took a drag on his cigarette, and coughed at length and great feeling before continuing, “Ye ought to be ashamed, impersonating a man o’ character. That’s a felony in the Witchfinder Code of Ethics!”

This was not entirely true. Shadwell had in fact never laid eyes on the Witchfinder Code of Ethics, and indeed he wasn’t sure that a Witchfinder Code of Ethics even existed. But much like the Witchfinder Handshake, it sounded official, and he liked the look of awed outrage it brought to the spirit’s flickering blue-white face.

“You would dare speak to your superior officer in such a tone?”

Shadwell smiled menacingly and wagged his finger. It went straight trough the impostor’s chest. “Um,” he said. This was going to be trickier than he thought, but he knew he would think of something, even if that something meant dialing the spectral hotline number that could be found every week on the back of the local tabloid. He didn’t know what so-called Ghostbusters did, but he was sure it wasn’t merciful. “Jus’ ye wait.”

“Now do you believe in me? Will you take heed of my words? They concern your future, and the world that is to come!”

“Brr!” Madame Tracy shuffled forward, clicked her tongue reproachfully, and slammed the door. “You should be more careful, Mister S! You’ll catch your death standing there on a night like this, and no mistake.”

Shadwell blinked. He did feel a bit chilly. “Aye,” he grumbled, and took the proffered cup of liqueur-laced cocoa. If that witch ever came back -- preferably in summer -- he’d be ready.


End file.
